


Say You'll Stay With Me Tonight

by AnonymousWriting



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Canon-Typical Violence, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Declarations Of Love, Derek Hale Uses His Words, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Girl!Stiles, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Mentioned Kate Argent, Mild Blood, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Vaginal Sex, female!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousWriting/pseuds/AnonymousWriting
Summary: Stiles wants Derek to use his words. Derek wants to show her how he feels. Mild angst ensues.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever posted on here so please be gentle.  
In this fic Stiles is 19-20 years old and Derek is 21-22ish years old. Nothing underage whatsoever with them, but there is brief, vague mention of Kate's abuse of Derek when he was underage.  
Mild blood tag refers to Stiles getting an offscreen injury that requires stitches and seemingly becomes infected. I'm not trained in medicine so if it makes no sense please suspend your disbelief.  
The first chapter features more of the angst and is probably rated Teen and the second chapter will be rated explicit.

Stiles suddenly remembers something when she’s watching Derek sleep,  _ post coitally _ , on her extra pillow. It was about a year ago when she and Derek were looking through the bestiary and the werewolf entry was conspicuously lacking. Just minutes earlier she had been laughing over the sexual habits of harpies. 

“There’s nothing in this chapter about sexual behavior of werewolves, Derek!” 

Derek raised his eyebrows at her from across the table. 

Stiles felt her face warming. Stupid pale skin. But that didn’t stop her from forging ahead. “I mean, the other chapters have a sexual behavior section, but not the werewolf chapter. So what are you folks hiding?”

Derek coughed suddenly. “No one’s hiding anything, Stiles. Not all the chapters have a sexual behavior section.”

That was true, but… “But what’s werewolf sex like then?”

Derek’s eyes widened. “Don’t you talk to Scott about these things?”

“Sure, but you seem to know more about werewolves than him right?”

“Just drop it, Stiles.” 

And ordinarily she would have kept pestering Derek until he offered up some details, but Isaac’s frantic call about a fairy attack in the woods interrupted them. Later that night, after Stiles cleaned out the fairy dust from Derek’s healing flesh wounds and she was safely in bed, though still shaking from the night’s events, her phone pinged. 

Derek:  _ What you wanted to know earlier. I haven’t had a pack in a long time. I only know myself. _

“What the hell?” Stiles couldn’t even place what the message was about for a few moments. When she remembered the topic she was honestly shocked Derek was the one bringing it back up. 

Stiles:  _ A werewolf sample size of one still counts. How many of those chapters only have one sighting in the last 500 years?  _

An ellipsis hovered to indicate Derek was typing for the next minute and she groaned when she only got a one word response. Typical. 

Derek:  _ Maybe _ . 

Stiles:  _ So? What should I know for the bestiary?  _

She was pushing, she knew that, but she didn’t know how to not do that. And there was a part of her, a bigger part than she was willing to admit, that wanted to know what Derek was like in bed,  _ specifically _ . 

His next messages came one after the other. 

Derek:  _ I had some bad experiences.  _

Derek:  _ With sex.  _

Derek:  _ I need to be able to trust who I’m with.  _

Stiles didn’t have a response that would be worthy of what Derek shared with her. She had an inkling for a while now what really went on between Derek and Kate.

Stiles:  _ That makes sense. Thanks for helping expand my knowledge, Der. And I’m sorry you had those bad experiences.  _

She didn’t think he’d respond, so she woke up from a doze when her phone pinged again. 

Derek:  _ Good night Stiles.  _

***

It’s not something they talk about beforehand. If Stiles is honest with herself, this  _ thing _ has been simmering for a while, even before she knew she was officially bisexual. A girl can only have so many sex dreams about Derek Hale pushing her up against walls before she must admit she likes him as much as, if not more than, Lydia Martin. It’s not something they talk about beforehand and yet Stiles feels like it’s a conversation that’s been going in circles for months. So she’s not exactly surprised when the night after the troll attack when she’s too scared to be alone in the house Derek stays with her. And maybe it’s the adrenaline or  _ the shared trauma _ or whatever, but Derek is kissing her. Kissing her against a wall. Stiles just got out of the shower and is only in her underwear underneath the towel. She can hear faint growls coming from Derek’s throat. 

“Please.  _ Please,  _ Derek,” she moans. “Oh please make me come.” 

And Derek does.

And Stiles remembers and thinks,  _ holy shit, Derek trusts  _ me. For him that might be bigger than love. So maybe it doesn’t matter that he didn’t say he loves her back. 

***

After, when she whispers it to him his heart thuds and his throat feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. He hasn’t said that out loud to a woman since he was 16 years old. He wills himself to push the words out, but he falls asleep instead. 

***

Derek stays over more nights than not after that. Stiles always hides him in the closet or on the other side of her bed whenever her dad pops in to say good night if he’s not working. 

“Good night, kiddo. Good luck on her your exam tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Dad. At least BHCU is easier than Stanford.” She means it as a shared joke, but the habitual hitch in her voice gives her away. 

“We’ll see what we can do about transferring if that’s what you want. The house-”

“No, Dad, stop. I like it here, okay? I’m glad how it all turned out.”

He sighs. “We’ll keep talking about this.” 

“Good night,” Stiles calls when he shuts the door behind him. 

Derek strides out of the shadows and envelopes her stiffly, burying his face in her neck. “Stanford.” Only to the ear trained in Derek-speak did he ask a question. 

She was expecting something like this. “It’s nothing, Derek. I decided to stay in Beacon Hills.” 

He only raises his eyebrows at her, sensing a lie somehow. 

“Ugh, fine. It was my dream school, but we couldn’t afford the tuition, so I was stuck here. Happy?” She added, “It was where my mom went.” Every time she thinks about it the old hurt comes up. The joy at her acceptance letter two years ago, to the rage and disappointment at learning her dad was still paying off the medical bills from her mom. Derek must see all of this play out on her face. He turns away before he sees the joy in still going to class with Scott and being near her dad and the gratitude that she stayed. The gratitude that she gets to be with this man. 

The next day there’s a blank check sitting on her laptop. She tears it up. 

***

Stiles wakes up slowly. It hurts to open her eyes, so she decides to close them again. She wants to ask where she is, but it’s too much effort to speak. She registers feeling unbearably hot and tries to kick off her mountain of blankets, but that leaves her shaking with cold. She can hear faint voices around her. Then she registers the pain. 

“She’s burning up. Can’t they give her something to take the fever down?” Scott’s voice is rough, like he’s trying to be quiet, but can’t stop the strong emotion from bleeding out. 

Derek’s voice is a soft rumble in response. It makes her think of warm arms around her at night and sharp stubble against her inner thighs. “Maybe the fever is helping her fight the infection.”

Her cheek hurts. She groans at the tight, sharp ache in the left side of her face. Someone grabs her hand. “Don’t touch the stitches, Stiles,” Derek murmurs. 

Scott says, “I’m going to get my mom to see about more meds.” The door clicks behind him. 

Derek is still holding her hand, draining her pain. 

“Wh- what happened?” she croaks. 

“Something’s claws got you. You’re in the hospital.” 

Stiles tries to sit up, but flops back down and shivers. “Can I see?”

Derek frowns, but holds up his phone to take a picture and shows her his screen. The stitches are jagged across her cheek and caked with blood and antiseptic. Her first thought is that she looks like Frankenstein. Her second thought is to correct herself that she looks like Frankenstein’s monster. Her third thought is that no one will ever fall in love her when she looks like a monster. She bursts into messy sobs. A week from now she’ll look back in astonishment that she cried over something as simple as a scar. She’s had plenty of scars even before all this werewolf business. Up until this point Stiles Stilinski hasn’t cried since last year on her mom’s birthday, but she’s feverish and she’s in love with a werewolf who will probably never love her in return. 

Derek snatches his phone away and grips her hand tighter, his eyes scared and wide. Derek has every right to be astonished. Stiles has never been known to be vain. She’ll get muddy in lacrosse with the best of them. She’ll forget to brush her teeth when she’s playing videogames with Scott for 24 hours. She’ll rock some flannel with her hair pulled in a ponytail and call it a day. His first instinct is to assume she’s in excruciating pain. “Stiles what’s wrong?” 

Stiles’ voice comes in hitched gasps. “No! One! Will! Ever! Love! Meeeeee!” 

Derek’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. “Stiles,” he shushes her. “Please don’t cry.”

The tears sting the cut on her face, which just makes her cry harder. 

Derek places a careful finger under her eye to wipe her tears away. “ _ Stiles _ .”

She feels her cries in an inexorable rush, like a river falling over a cliff into a waterfall. Now that she’s started she doesn’t think she can stop. At least she has the wherewithal to snort in her snot so she doesn’t add to her hideousness. Derek wordlessly hands her a tissue and she honks into it messily, then gasps. 

Derek brushes her wet hair back from her face. “Good. Take some deep breaths.” 

Stiles wills herself to calm down, but cries out when she remembers. Derek’s past loves were all gorgeous and she’s...wearing flannel and a ponytail. Upon reflection Stiles has the self-awareness to realize she probably always had some deep seated insecurities about Derek’s feelings for her, or lack thereof, and her femininity, or lack thereof. One doesn’t go through high school being the last of her friends to get laid without having at least mild self-esteem issues after all. (Although upon further reflection the girl she lost her virginity to, Malia, would probably either not care about a cut on her face or think she looks badass.) 

She takes a big mucus-y breath. “No one will love me like this.” She cries, “Think of the scar!”

Derek runs his hand against her hot forehead and she sighs at the sensation. “I still…” He clears his throat. “I still.” 

Her breaths hitch again. “What does that even mean?” More tears start flowing even though she wills herself to stop. 

Derek winces, but Stiles is too fevered to notice. “I won’t stop.” 

If Stiles were more lucid she might have picked up on what Derek was trying to say. Instead she cries some more. “You’re not making any sense!” 

Derek pushes her hair back from her eyes with both of his hands and leans down she can focus her gaze on his face. He waits until her eyes stop flitting helplessly from his eyes to his mouth in confusion. “I’m in love with you, Stiles. I’ve been in love with you and I still am and I won’t stop being in love with you. So can you please stop crying?” he chokes out desperately. 

Stiles hiccups. 

“I love you.” He kisses her temple. 

Stiles lets out another sob.    
Derek looks stricken. “Stiles!”

“I just love you so much!” 

***

Derek feels shy when Stiles wakes up. He felt shy when they met (he always feels shy around new people) and he felt shy pretty much until Stiles accused him of murder. Then his shy gruffness became real anger and gradually became a grudging fondness which pushed him into the deepest love he’s ever known. Yet he’s still too shy to come sit by her after telling her so. He can tell her fever is gone with her clear eyes and shrewd questioning. 

“Do I smell? I feel like I smell.”

Derek huffs in response. 

“Come here, Sourwolf.” She makes grabby hands at him. 

He sits on the edge of her bed, but can’t meet her eyes.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know.” 

Derek looks at her then, really looks at her. He takes in her broad smile and the hope in her eyes, and the birthmarks on her neck, and the stitches on her cheek and he loves it all. “I meant it too.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much porn without plot.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” Stiles asked from the crook of Derek’s arm. 

She could practically hear the smirk on Derek’s mouth before he answered, but she couldn’t crane her neck to actually check. “I thought you were a little shit.” 

“Oh come on!” Stiles brought up a hand to tickle his ribs in retaliation. “That’s all you thought?”

Derek endured a few extra seconds of tickles to prolong the delight on Stiles’ face, but eventually caught her hand and playfully growled. “I thought you smelled good.” Derek said it without inflection, no doubt hoping for some casual reveal, but it landed with his feared significance. 

Stiles’ face blossomed. “Awww dude! I didn’t know you cared!”

“Don’t call me dude. And I didn’t.”

“You just said you did.”   
“No, I said you smelled good.”

“Exactly.”

“Hmph.”

***

Derek didn’t just think she smelled good. She smelled  _ right _ . She smelled like home. She also smelled like arousal. He tortured himself many a night wondering if she always smelled like that or if it was just around him. 

Evidence was in favor that he was in fact a factor:

“If you say one word-” He pushed her against the door to close it and to intimidate. 

Stiles would not be intimidated though. She was almost as tall as him and bit out a retort back into his face. “Oh you mean like, hey Dad, Derek Hale’s in my room, bring your gun?” 

Derek noticed a lot of things at once. He felt confusion at someone not backing down from his alpha routine (What was he doing wrong? Laura could always get people to do what she wanted.), but most of all he smelled more of Stiles up this close and could look into her deep whiskey eyes and felt a jolt when she looked right back at him defiantly. His hands were still holding her against the door. Stiles breathed out a gasp, then another, and then he smelled it. He tried baring his teeth, but he smelled another wave of her want. She glanced at his lips, and he couldn’t help but mirror her gaze. His dick throbbed for the first time in almost a year. 

***

He was already going to hell for so many other things, yet he still felt guilty about this. He had Stiles’ scent on the shirt she made him try on in front of Danny, and he could still taste her arousal on the back of his throat. He brought the shirt to his nose and reached into the waistband of his jeans. Gods, he was already rock hard. He brought his palm up to his mouth and licked it before going back down. He only allowed himself to imagine kissing her. Anything further felt like a violation. She may be attracted to him, but she might run screaming from him like the monster he was if she knew the things he wanted to do to her. 

“Stiles,” he moaned, as his arm jumped. 

***

“So you could smell me?” she asked from beneath her lashes. She was wearing only his boxer briefs, no bra, and with her bun mussed from their fucking earlier she looked like his every fantasy come to life. 

Derek responded with a raise of his brows and a knowing glint in his eyes. 

Stiles grinned wickedly. “Did you want me? When you could smell I wanted you?” Stiles brushed her hand over his already hardening cock once, twice.

Derek gave a sharp inhale. 

“Use your words, Derek,” she teased.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes I wanted you.” He had to close his eyes from the sheer overwhelming power of her hand and her dark eyes and moles and her neck, Gods, her neck. 

“Show me.” She backed away, but he could still feel her warmth from the end of the bed. 

He leaned up on his elbows so he could see her. “Show you?” 

Stiles blushed. “Is that your, ‘I could be into this’ face or your ‘We need to talk about sexual boundaries, Stiles’ face?” 

Derek dropped back down and tried to hide his grin, but knew she could see his crinkling eyes from her vantage point. “I’m into this, Stiles,” he said, his voice gravelly as he took his cock in hand and stroked upwards. With anyone else he would feel awkward, vulnerable on his back, naked before someone’s gaze. With Stiles there was nothing more he wanted to do than show her how much pleasure she brought him. He couldn’t always tell her, but he could show her. 

Stiles moaned from her corner of the bed. “Oh please keep going.” She was grasping the sheets into her fists and could hear her heartbeat stutter when he increased his pace. He could only look at her in glances and blinks or he’d be coming already. His eyes were closed, but he could tell she never stopped staring. 

She choked on a breath and he opened his eyes to find her taking her wet fingers out of her mouth and down to her pussy. “What did you think about, Derek?”

“Kissing you,” he gasped honestly. 

Stiles snorted. “You prude.” 

“What did you think about?” he added defensively.

“Everything.” Her eyes never wavered from the scene he made and she kept a steady pace with her fingers, dragging it out. “I imagined you licking me, fucking me with your big cock, taking me, letting me suck you, taste you…” She took her other hand to her left nipple and moaned his name. 

Derek’s eyes darkened. “Open your mouth,” he demanded. Stiles angled forward and greedily took two unclawed fingers deep in her throat. “Yes, yes,  _ Stiles _ .” Derek pulled back his thighs and found the hole he’d explore when he smelled her shirt alone at his loft. Derek grunted when his wet fingers found their way to his prostate. 

“Oh  _ fuck. _ Derek this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Derek’s head arched back. He could hear Stiles’ fingers were soaked and moving faster. He knew she’d be dripping on his boxers she’d barely pulled down. He leaned up to get another look. Oh the picture she made. She was up on her knees, legs spread as far as they could go with the elastic of the underwear around her pale thighs. Tendrils of her dark hair swept along her damp neck, and as she moved he could see his favorite moles and places where he’d sucked marks on her between the strands. He could tell she was close. Her belly was quivering, hips thrusting against the palm of her hand. She choked back a gasp and then she was coming. 

She whined at the last pulse of pleasure. “I want to come again. I want to come on your cock.” 

Derek’s instantaneous red-eyed reaction betrayed his eagerness. Derek let out a grunt at the loss of his own fingers, but in less than a breath he was kissing her beneath him, moving her pliant legs apart, and sinking into her wetness. She scratched her blunt human nails against his shoulders and wrapped her long legs around him. He fucked her into another orgasm and as she gasped his name he felt her teeth against his neck. That was all that did it. Her bite turned to a soft kiss nuzzling against his throat when he finished, and he turned his head so she would kiss his mouth.

“You really do like kissing, don’t you, Derek Hale?” Her voice sounded come drunk and her eyelids drooped. 

“I like kissing you,” he answered. 

***

He was still inside her. She felt the muscles in his back tighten as if he were about to get off of her, but she wrapped her limbs around him tightly, giving herself the illusion she could control a werewolf. But maybe she could, because he was slipping back, mixing the sweat between their bodies and pushing the breath out of her lungs. “Stay with me.”

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I welcome comments and kudos. Just nothing too critical please, this fic has been my baby for the past few weeks. Feel free to let me know if I've incorrectly rated/tagged/warned for things.


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